


The Heat In Your Skin

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Eskel, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha Lambert, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Found Family, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Polyamorous Pack, Polyamory, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Those were the kind of Omegas Geralt was used to—strong, tough, took no bullshit, underestimate them at your peril—and then, he met Jaskier. Soft and fragrant, eyes like a clear blue sky, laugh like silver bells. He was beautiful and part of Geralt had never wanted anyone more.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 208
Kudos: 1773
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone ask for 2k of world building and social dynamics, and 7k of porn? No? Would you like some?
> 
> And now we run into the other reason it took so long for me to get around to writing A/B/O stuff... I get way too wrapped up in world building. Like, it's a rabbit hole I will fall down every time. I hope I didn't get too bogged down with this because it did end up a little longer than I first intended. This is not related to my other A/B/O fic, i wanted to try out Omega Jaskier now and while I love him, I do prefer Omega Geralt, I think.
> 
> Please enjoy, I hope the sexual politics doesn't take away from the sexy scenes. I also realized quite recently (as in: two hours ago) that I write game Geralt and show Jaskier, so if Geralt seems too nice here, that's probably why. I'm over it, I love soft game Geralt. All typos are my fault, let me know if you find one and I'll see to it.
> 
> I'm round--robin on tumblr for similar nonsense.

Geralt was insane, he had to be, bringing an Omega home for winter was... No, insane was too mild a word, it didn't fully encompass the gravity of the situation.

There hadn't been an Omega in Kaer Morhen in years, decades really. Witchers came in all biological stripes and the mutations made sure they were all equally deadly to the monsters of the world around them. Omegas were special, more brutal. As it turned out, when you take away the ability to breed, the protective fire inside flared into an inferno. Direct it correctly and you had a vicious monster slayer who took no prisoners. The extra mutations Geralt went through put him on par with the Omegas he trained with, but even he could never match the protective fury in their eyes. It was a sight to behold.

Those were the kind of Omegas Geralt was used to—strong, tough, took no bullshit, underestimate them at your peril—and then, he met Jaskier. Soft and fragrant, eyes like a clear blue sky, laugh like silver bells. He was beautiful and part of Geralt had never wanted anyone more.

But there was danger under that pretty face, like with any Omega. Most Omegas were soft and accommodating, they just wanted to love those around them and their eventual families, until they scented danger on the air, then fucking look out. It was never as _intense_ as a Witcher Omega, but Jaskier got close. Geralt had seen him go from dancing and smiling, to snarling at a man, knife held to his balls, all for the slight of slapping Jaskier's ass.

“Want to end your family line?” he snarled, lips curling. “Touch me again and I can arrange that for you.”

Seeing Jaskier stand up for himself like that—when he had a Witcher more than willing to step in—then turn around and throw one of those soft smiles, made Geralt melt. He pulled Jaskier to him and quickly plundered his mouth, showing all the things he didn't have the pretty words to express, the asshole Alpha shaking and forgotten on the floor.

Up in their room, he pressed kisses up and down Jaskier's neck, breathing him in deep, surrounding himself with the scents of sunshine and salt and the coast. “You're insane,” Geralt mumbled, Jaskier's ear lobe between his teeth. “I love it.”

Jaskier chuckled, grinding himself down on Geralt's thick thigh. “I've been told quite a few times that I'm too mouthy for an Omega.”

“Not for a Witcher Omega.” Geralt tried to find the words several times to describe the Omegas he grew up with: the strength, the raw power that rolled off them in waves, and coupled with the protective fury of the pack. It's why no Omega survived the assault on Kaer Morhen. They all fought to the bitter end, throwing themselves between fallen brothers and a sword, the fire inside them pushing too far, until they all burned away...

Only Alphas remained, the last of their school. Vesemir was older, more experienced in keeping the family together, but with Geralt and Eskel less than a decade out of training, and Lambert just earned his medallion, it was difficult. The familiar scents of pack and family kept them from going insane during winter, or when the odd rut hit, but there was always something missing.

In that tavern in Posada, Geralt caught the long forgotten scent of a happy Omega, the hot smell like a fire, but not quite, more like the heat of sunlight on his back. The smell wafted towards him and this fucking bard sat down. “You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

Try as he might to rid himself of this certifiable human (had to be, no Omega in their right mind came near a Witcher) that almost familiar smell drew him in tight and didn't let go. When Geralt wrapped a hand around Jaskier's arm to throw him out of his camp, he brought him in close instead, barely able to hold himself back from shoving his face into Jaskier's neck.

That bright smile went slack, lips going soft. Jaskier reached up and trailed his fingers through Geralt's hair. _Certifiable_ , he thought. “I don't know much about Witchers,” he said. He didn't whisper, but his voice was oh so soft and low, like the coo of a lover. “I imagine it's been a while since you've had an Omega this close.”

“Yes,” Geralt managed to force out. He closed his eyes and that didn't make it any better, he still smelled Jaskier, all warm and too familiar. It made him ache.

“You can imagine, I'm not exactly virginal. Never saw the point of it.” Jaskier continued to stroke his hair and Geralt pushed into his hand, needing more. “And, I am the one who followed you. That must suggest a few things...”

Decades of training his control kicked in and Geralt managed to take a half step back. “I don't work on suggestions. Witchers don't—we don't force anyone. You have to say it.”

Jaskier followed him, chest pressing against Geralt's, the quick thump-thump-thump of a human heart a contrast to his slow one. “I want you. However you'll have me. Clear enough for you?”

“Yes.” Before Geralt was conscious of moving, he had Jaskier pinned to his bedroll, rubbing his face up the side of his neck. Still booted feet wrapped around his hips, pulling them closer and Jaskier arched to get more. Geralt opened the ties of Jaskier's doublet, tongue tracing over newly bared skin as he went. That sunshine warmth was in his skin too and Geralt moaned, memories of Clovis pressed between him and Eskel during a heat, the scent and taste of fire seeding off of him.

He suddenly wanted to tell Jaskier everything, things he never spoke of outside the walls of Kaer Morhen, stories of his training, his brothers in arms, his first rut, how he and Eskel partnered the same Omega for their heat, both of them together enough to sate the fire inside. He wanted to rip open his mind and shower Jaskier with his memories. He'd been near human Omegas before, with their sickly sweet scents like honey dripping down the back of his throat, or vanilla bean straight from the pod, but never had he come across another with heat in their skin like the Omegas he grew up with. He wanted to give Jaskier everything just to have that almost fire back.

Stripping them both, Geralt continued his exploration with his tongue, licking across Jaskier's ribs, his navel, over the ridges of his hips. Jaskier moaned and writhed under him, grabbing Geralt's shoulders or hair to keep from breaking apart under the intense attention. He licked a stripe up Jaskier's cock, from root to tip and the bard jumped. Most ignored an Omega's cock, but Geralt was used to exploring every pleasure that could be visited upon a body and spent a moment licking and sucking, rolling the small head into his cheek.

“Oh, oh fuck,” Jaskier whimpered, writhing on the bedroll. “That's—Alphas don't usually do that.” He gave an awkward little chuckle and Geralt stopped for a moment, checking his scent. When he found no fear or hesitance, he continued his trail downwards, parting Jaskier's legs.

The first touch of his tongue to Jaskier's hole was heaven, for them both. Jaskier's chest jerked, his hips grinding down to get more. Geralt was ready to give more. Even though his cock strained and leaked against Jaskier's thigh, he'd happily spend all night pleasuring the Omega with no thought of his own release. It had been so very long.

“Geralt... Geralt...” Jaskier gulped huge breaths of air and it still wasn't enough, every word was an effort with Geralt's tongue pressing into him like that. “This is... very nice. For you to do... but, oh fuck, if you don't give me your cock soon, I'm going to lose my fucking mind.”

Responding to the command of an Omega, Geralt pulled away, the head of his cock already pressed against Jaskier's open and dripping hole. “Anything.” Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt's hips again and pulled him in.

They both moaned as Geralt bottomed out. “Oh fuck,” Jaskier groaned. “You're so big.”

“Witcher,” Geralt grunted, giving a slow roll of his hips. “Everything gets enhanced, whether we need it to fight monsters or not.”

“I'm getting that.” Jaskier gave another little wiggle, getting used to the immense girth inside of him. It wasn't just the size of Geralt's cock, but the weight too, sitting inside him like a stud holding up a building, holding them together. He'd never felt so full, not on someone's knot, not any time he could remember. If this is what fucking a Witcher was like, Jaskier never wanted anyone else ever again.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt's shoulders and pulled his head down into his neck. A deep purr rumbled from the scarred man above him and Jaskier preened. Reducing a beastly Witcher to a purring kitten, there was so much power in that thought. Kissing into Geralt's hair, Jaskier whispered, “Start slow. I want to feel you.”

“Yes, Omega, anything.” The word just slipped out—an endearment between bonded pairs, but they weren't bonded or even familiar. Geralt had known Jaskier for a grand total of twelve hours, and he was already putty in his hands.

But Jaskier didn't catch him on the sweet talk and continued to kiss through his hair and across his sweaty skin, scenting and licking him a little as he thrust in glacially slow. “Mmm, you smell amazing, like snow on the mountain.”

A low growl built in Geralt's chest and he nosed up through Jaskier's fragrant chest hair, getting as much of his smell as possible. “You smell divine.”

He kept his thrusts slow and even until Jaskier started panting, begging for more. “Faster.” Geralt sped up, legs tightening around him. Jaskier's noises got louder, his scent stronger and Geralt growled again, fingers curling into his hips. They weren't bonded, they just fucking met, but Geralt knew he'd defend Jaskier from whatever came his way.

“Faster,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt's hips started snapping at a bruising pace, helpless to do anything other than what Jaskier asked of him. Jaskier's keening moans got louder, jumping a few octaves. Geralt's body responded, his knot filling so fast, it made him dizzy. Jaskier felt the engorged knot nudging against him and fucking lost it. “Yes, give it to me, I want it.” Helpless to resist the order, Geralt pushed hard, his knot filling Jaskier. “Oh, fuck, it's like a fist...”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Skin sweaty, hair everywhere, Jaskier managed to glare up at him. “Are you kidding me? This is the best... the most...” He slumped back on the bedroll, his eyes going distant. “Oh, oh fuck, yes!” Every muscle in Jaskier's pelvis tightened around Geralt, pulling the air from his lungs. Jaskier jerked, a small spurt of come landing on his stomach as his climax started. Geralt's body reacted immediately, spilling inside Jaskier, letting the Omega clamp down on his knot.

This wasn't a heat, so Jaskier's body wasn't quite so desperate for Geralt's knot, but he hadn't felt this kind of pressure in decades and couldn't help the punched out groan that came from deep inside him. Lost in the throes of his own orgasm, Jaskier managed a small smile, pulling Geralt in close as they came, their bodies taking over for a moment before releasing them from the fog of biology.

Geralt kissed along Jaskier's chest. “My knot takes a while to go down. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Jaskier kept petting Geralt, touching him all over his back and shoulders. “You're fucking perfect, I've never been so... so fucking satisfied.” He clenched down on Geralt's knot. “This is perfect. I'll gladly spend an hour on your knot, the feel of it...” he trailed off with a happy little shudder.

“Closer to half an hour.” Grabbing Jaskier, he rolled them over onto their sides into a more comfortable position. While it might be nice having a Witcher on one's chest in the middle of a good fuck, not so much when there was a knot to wait out.

The few whores who didn't mind getting knotted by a Witcher leaned away as soon as the task was done, putting as much distance between them and Geralt as possible. But Jaskier leaned in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and rubbing their noses together. “I can feel your heart beat. Inside of me.” He closed his eyes and moaned, plush lips mouthing at Geralt's. “It's so slow, uh, it's wonderful.”

Jaskier kissed him until his knot went down, then kept kissing him, licking over Geralt's adam's apple, down his neck to the hollow of his throat, back up to suck on his earlobes. Geralt let him go as long as he pleased, his mind filling with thoughts and memories of so many years ago, Eskel pushed up close, waiting for his turn as Clovis or Frank licked at the cuts and scrapes earned during training. Witchers healed fast, they didn't need the doting of an Omega to spur their bodies to heal, but that didn't mean they were going to turn it away when offered. Childhood was a terrible trial they all had to survive, and the promise of a castle half filled with Omega brothers to love was the only thing that kept Geralt sane sometimes. With his medallion cool against his skin, he let himself be cared for.

After Jaskier finished licking and kissing and fussing with Geralt's hair, he finally pulled back, a light blush across his cheeks. “Look at me, treating you like a pup. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Geralt chuckled and held tighter. Jaskier's scent surrounded them now and Geralt's mind started to drift. “You remind me of home...” he whispered before sleep took him. Jaskier gathered the blankets around them and joined Geralt in sleep, his fingers idly playing with a few locks of silky white hair.

Geralt woke a few hours before dawn with the smell of sunshine all around him. Even in the dark, Jaskier's light reached out for him. He gathered the sleeping human close and inhaled deeply, content curling through his stomach. Thoughts of winter, his pack happy and loved and together, filled his mind and the seeds of insanity started to take root. _I wonder if I can bring him home to the others..._

They started traveling together and Geralt felt complete again. His Alpha brothers all smelled like the mountain—solid stone, like the castle that formed them into deadly weapons. Omega Witchers smelled like heat from the fire, burning and ruthless, but warm and comforting when need be. Geralt never thought he'd smell that heat again, and every morning he woke with Jaskier's sunshine smell around him, he fell a little deeper in love.

When Jaskier asked him to share his heat, Geralt jumped at the chance. Ruts didn't trigger often without an Omega, but when they did, Geralt helped Eskel or Lambert see it through. But rut was nothing like a heat, rut was quick and sharp, biting, clawing, scratching until the urge to breed (an urge they could never satisfy) finally went away. It was something to be dealt with, not enjoyed. Geralt had fond memories of sharing a heat with his brothers, long nights slowly fucking into a shuddering Omega, their hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises, but the rest of their body trembling with need, a need only an Alpha could fulfill. Oh, how he longed to share a good heat again, and here was Jaskier, asking him.

“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

Jaskier blushed, biting his lip even as he moved closer. “I have to warn you, I'm a bit... rough. I bite, I scratch. Gave an Alpha a black eye once.” He trailed a fingers down Geralt's chest. “But I figure a Witcher can handle me.”

Geralt slid a hand down to cup Jaskier's ass, fingers brushing the top of his crack through his breeches. If he closed his eyes and breathed deep enough, he could smell Jaskier's slick from here. Jaskier was always wet. It was intoxicating. “I'm sure I'll be up to the challenge. After all, I've been through a Witcher's heat.”

“Mmm.” Jaskier pressed up close. “Tell me about that right the fuck now.” It didn't take much for Jaskier to convince Geralt to fuck, and every time he sank in, a little bit of the emptiness inside filled up.

The week before midsummer, Jaskier's heat hit. He was _not_ exaggerating _._ The moment he started to feel the first symptoms, he turned into a crazed, possessed thing, grabbing for Geralt even as he tore at his own clothes. Love bites were one thing, but Geralt had deep bruises from Jaskier's teeth and flailing hands trying to grab onto him every moment of every day for almost a week.

When Geralt wasn't kissing him, Jaskier bit into his neck, sucking love bites on top of love bites. When Geralt wasn't within arm's reach, Jaskier lunged across the room to get to him. Panting and nearly sobbing, “I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I need you so much... it hurts...”

“Shush.” Geralt kissed down his neck, knot pushing in for what felt like both the hundredth time and the first time, his body reacting to Jaskier's desperation, ready to be more, be everything Jaskier needed. “You have me, let me take care of you.” He could handle a wild heat, in fact, it reminded him of the old days. He had stamina to spare and kept Jaskier as satisfied as possible. But by the end of it, Geralt felt the pains in his muscles, relief flooding him when Jaskier's cock went down and didn't come back up again.

“I'm sorry,” Jaskier sighed. How he was still awake was a wonder. No matter how much food and water Geralt pushed into him, he couldn't have absorbed enough to replace the energy lost to lust. “If I was too much...”

Geralt didn't want to lie to Jaskier. “It was a lot. Not too much, though.” He smoothed a hand through Jaskier's sweaty hair. They both stank worse than selkiemore guts but if he tried to get Jaskier into a bath right now, he'd probably fall asleep and drown. Best leave it til the morning.

As they settled down for the first real rest in days, that spark of insanity crawled in Geralt's ear again. _Almost too much for you, never too much for the pack._ He blamed the exhaustion, the lack of sleep and heat pheromones still flooding his brain. But when he opened his mouth, that was very much his fault. “Jaskier, have you ever had more than one Alpha for a heat?”

“Mmm... sounds nice in theory.” Jaskier was exhausted, how he managed to lift his head from Geralt's chest and focus on anything was a marvel. “But I've never known an Alpha who would tolerate sharing an Omega.”

Geralt already opened his mouth, he planted the seeds of desire in his own fucking head—Jaskier in his bed, Eskel and Lambert tending to him as Geralt took a break, all three of them ready and oh so willing to give their new Omega anything he desired. “I do.”

Once the thought was planted in his mind, there was no stopping it. Now that Jaskier knew about the Alpha Witchers alone in Kaer Morhen, he had to meet them. “Please, Geralt, please,” he pleaded while they were tied together. Jaskier figured out long ago that he could get whatever he wanted, as long as he asked for it while speared on Geralt's knot. “I know how much I hurt you, don't you want help with my heat?”

 _Yes_ , Geralt wanted to say. Instead he said: “Only if you want it.”

“I do.”

Now here they stood at the gates of Kaer Morhen, Jaskier shaking at his side. They had to go in, he needed to get Jaskier warmed up after the difficult trip, but for the first time in his life, Geralt was unsure how his pack might react.

Wolves were pack animals, Wolf Witchers, doubly so. Geralt spent his life sharing everything with his brothers—food off his plate, coin from his purse, even the shirt off his back on one memorable occasion. There was no jealousy between them, never had been. But decades without an Omega, maybe they were out of practice sharing. Was he about to bring Jaskier inside just to watch them spend all winter tearing each other apart?

There was nothing for it now. They couldn't go back down the mountain tonight. Worst came to worst, Geralt and Jaskier would set out in the morning and find somewhere else to winter. He hoped it didn't come to that. Jaskier's next heat was supposed to hit near the solstice, they had time to... figure this out. With Jaskier held tight to his side, they walked through the front doors of Kaer Morhen.

The front hall was quiet, only the sounds of old creaks buffeted by the wind. A little farther down, Geralt heard Vesemir shuffling around in the library, Eskel and Lambert upstairs in their rooms. He let Vesemir know his plan weeks ago, found a kitchen witch in a medium sized town and got one of her trained ravens to ferry the message. Cost him some hefty coin, but Geralt wasn't about to bring an Omega to the keep without giving Vesemir time to prepare.

Heavy boots scraped against the flag stones and Geralt held Jaskier in place. Vesemir emerged from around a corner, eyes taking in the young Omega. Geralt held his breath, squeezing tight to Jaskier's shoulders. “Let Vesemir get your scent,” he said. “He won't be with us for your heat, but he needs to get to know everyone who stays in our keep.”

Under his hands, Jaskier vibrated with excitement. Stumbling across Geralt in some nowhere tavern was lucky enough, and now he was here to spend an entire winter with Witchers! Oh, the stories he'd write, the ballads of stalwart Wolves fighting for the freedom and safety of the Continent. The promise of experiencing a heat with not one, not two, but _three_ dedicated Alphas was a fantasy Jaskier never thought to hope for, but sex aside, Kaer Morhen was a gold mine for stories and Jaskier planned to spend the whole season listening to every last one.

Vesemir came closer and Jaskier saw an old, almost faded mating bite at his neck. Geralt explained a little of their lives here—the pack mattered most, they all belonged to one another but some of the older mentors formed deep connections with a single companion, bonding together to make the year away from the pack less lonely. Vesemir had a mate once upon a time, and judging by the fade on the mark, he'd been dead for a long while.

But there was still a small glimmer in the old Witcher's eye as he came closer, stopping a few steps from Jaskier. “May I approach, Omega?” he asked.

Jaskier blushed. He hadn't heard such a formal greeting in... well, he'd never heard it. Such a question was from the bygone days of Omegas protected and kept away from the world until they were ready to find a mate. The way Geralt told it, Vesemir was probably old enough to remember those days, so his strange manners made some sense.

He tried to remember the correct response and turned his head to the side, exposing his neck. “You may.” Vesemir swept in, his nose sliding up Jaskier's neck, inhaling deeply.

Much to Jaskier's surprise, Geralt didn't step away and allow the other Alpha room. He'd seen Alphas try to kill each other over such slights, but there Geralt was, standing at his back, arms lightly wrapped around Jaskier as Vesemir had a good sniff of his new house guest. “You really weren't kidding,” Jaskier said, his voice low, letting Vesemir continue under his jaw and through his hair. “You're not territorial at all.”

“Oh yes we are,” Vesemir said. He rubbed a stubbly cheek against Jaskier's neck one last time before stepping away. “A human Alpha will get his arms ripped off without a second though if he comes after what's ours, but we will protect Geralt's Omega if needed.” His eyes flashed up to Geralt. “His smell.”

“I know.” Geralt's head dipped down to scent Jaskier's neck, closer, more intimate than Vesemir's simple sniff. The tip of his tongue flicked over Jaskier's pulse point and he shuddered, slick starting to leak a little.

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “Now you've done it.”

The sound of two doors wrenching open echoed through the hall. More heavy boots pelted the stairs and Lambert and Eskel appeared, eyes wide. “Geralt, you brought an Omega?” Lambert asked.

Geralt turned them to face the stairs, still holding Jaskier tight. “Yes, I did. Jaskier, would you like to meet my brothers?”

Two mountains of men stood just across the hall and Jaskier had to bite his lips to resist licking them. They were almost as built as Geralt, both with facial scars that made them look like the rough sort his mother told him to avoid. “Never go near an Alpha with a visible scar, he fights too much for his own good, you won't be safe,” she told him a hundred times. But Jaskier wasn't very good at listening.

They both shook, trembling as they tried to keep themselves from lunging across the room. Eskel wrapped an arm around Lambert to hold him back but really, it was for his own sake as well. He'd never wanted an Omega more, after so long without one...

Jaskier opened his arms, Geralt's falling to his hips, and beckoned them both. “Yes I would.”

Across the hall like a bolt from a bow, Lambert and Eskel surrounded Jaskier, two noses brushed his neck, Eskel's lips pursing softly against his pulse point, Lambert's tongue licking his ear. They were _definitely_ more forward than Vesemir, that was for sure. Jaskier moaned at the sudden onslaught of Alpha and grabbed onto them to keep from staggering back. Geralt leaned into sniff him as well, a content noise rumbling from his chest.

“Geralt,” Eskel mouthed against Jaskier's neck. “That smell—”

“I thought I'd never smell it again,” Lambert growled. He was the first to try and bite Jaskier, not to claim, just to taste. “How?”

“I don't know,” Geralt said. Jaskier truly was a marvel. No one smelled like a Witcher Omega, not anymore—the heat from their skin like the fire of their love, devotion and fury, burning their enemies while warming the pack. The only way to warm a stone was to set it over the fire, or in Jaskier's case, leave it out in the sun. As they swarmed around him, Jaskier's sunshine warmth stirred feelings they thought were long lost, and it made them want him even more.

Crushed between the three of them, Jaskier was absolutely swimming in pheromones, his own and the ones seeding off the Witchers like a dandelion in the wind. His cock was hard and leaking a little in his breeches, his ass was definitely leaking, slick running down his thigh at the intense attention. He tried to touch them all, hand swiping through white hair, then black, stroking a close cut beard, then back to cupping Geralt's jaw. A kiss at the corner of his mouth and he tried to turn, rubbing against them all once again, counting three massive Alpha cocks hard against him.

“Take him upstairs,” Vesemir grumbled. “I won't have you making a mess of the front hall.” His boot steps faded away, leaving them all lost in Jaskier.

More used to Jaskier's scent than the others, Geralt managed to pull away first. “Upstairs,” he grunted. “My bed.” They didn't need telling twice. Geralt scooped Jaskier up into his arms and Lambert and Eskel picked up their bags. The 'mess' Vesemir referred to wasn't just come staining his floors, if they left their bags in the hall they'd be gone by morning.

Jaskier didn't remember the route they took to get to the bedrooms, he was too focused on kissing Geralt, hands flashing out to stroke Lambert or Eskel when they got close enough. He had all winter to learn the inner workings of Kaer Morhen, the best way to get from one side of the keep to another, and all the secrets these old walls held, but Geralt, Eskel and Lambert were his top priority at the moment.

The door shut behind them and Jaskier dropped out of Geralt's arms to yank his clothes off. Six hands stopped him, taking over the task for him, passing him around and pressing kisses all over feverish skin. Jaskier moaned and tried to lean into them all at once. No Omega in the history of the world had ever felt as loved as he did at that moment.

Two fingers slid into his hole and he heard the first growl. Panic surged through him and Jaskier whirled around, ready to ease the tension. But no blows followed, no snapping teeth or bloodshed. “Don't make him stand,” Geralt growled. “We just came up the fucking mountain. He's exhausted.”

Lambert nodded. “Sorry, I forgot. We've been here for two days.”

Arms still wrapped around Jaskier, Geralt leaned in and rubbed his face against Lambert's. “It's alright.”

Lambert licked Geralt's cheek before they both returned their attention to Jaskier. Resting their foreheads together, Lambert asked, “If you're too tired... we can wait.” The words were almost painful to say. With Jaskier naked between them, slick dripping down his legs, smelling divine, the thought of stopping _now_ was up there with removing his own testicles. But Lambert would do it if Jaskier asked.

Eskel had his hand on Jaskier's belly, thumb brushing the base of his cock, started to pull away. Jaskier clamped down on his arm, holding him in place. “If you stop now, I'm going to explode. Keep going. Please.”

Permission granted, Jaskier found himself on the bed, Eskel naked on top of him, Geralt and Lambert removing the rest of their clothes before climbing into the bed. “Who do you want first?” It was a question of order at this point, because there was no doubt Jaskier wanted them all tonight.

With Eskel already on top of him, it seemed unsporting to push him off. “Eskel,” Jaskier whispered, then stopped caring what went on. Any good Alpha always took care of their Omega, and now Jaskier had three good Alphas. He just met Lambert and Eskel, but already he trusted them like he trusted Geralt. Their smells told the story—hints of solid stone of their mountain, but a little different in themselves. Geralt smelled like the winter snow wiping against strong stone walls; Eskel like a hot spring, mineral water sliding smoothly through the mountain, picking up healing properties of the rocks and bringing a calming warmth from deep in the earth; and Lambert smelled like volcanic rock, a hint of sharpness pouring through the porous rocks, and hot to the touch.

Jaskier wrapped his legs around Eskel and felt the head of his cock brushing his hole, sliding in. He threw his head back, arching to get more. Lips kissed him all over and Jaskier clawed at Eskel's back, trying to hold on. He wasn't in heat, but fuck it almost felt like it, the burning need to have all of them touching him without the madness of his body trying to convince him he wanted a child. Jaskier thought he struck gold with Geralt—all the heart pounding sex, none of the risks of an accidental baby—but it turned out Geralt was just the beginning of the mine, Jaskier continued digging and found diamonds.

Eskel came with a shout, lips mouthing at Jaskier's shoulder. While they waited out the knot, Jaskier pulled Geralt and Lambert into the bed. It was a little awkward, but they knew how to fit around each other after decades of doing just that. He rubbed his nose up Lambert's neck and through Geralt's hair, scenting them both. “Don't stop touching me,” he panted. “Never stop touching me.”

As soon as Eskel pulled out, Lambert was right there, spooning up behind him and pushing inside, squeezing out slick and Eskel's come onto the bed and Jaskier's thighs. Jaskier was dripping with slick and the squelching noises pushing him over, orgasm rocking through him. “Uh, fuck.” Where Eskel was soft kisses and lapping licks, Lambert was all teeth. He bit and nipped at Jaskier's back, shuddering with him, fucking him through his orgasm and getting him hard again.

By the time Lambert's knot went down and Geralt pushed up next to him, Jaskier lost all sense of time. It could be the next morning or maybe only an hour had passed, he had no idea. All he knew was that Geralt's smell was near him now, surrounding him, and he still wanted more. Geralt took Jaskier's face in his hands and rubbed their noses together. “Is this too much?” he whispered. “We have all winter, I don't have to—”

Jaskier bit Geralt's lip, silencing him and pulling him in for a kiss. He started grinding his soaking ass across Geralt's hips and the Witcher's control snapped. He thrust in, giving them both what they wanted. Eskel and Lambert lounged on the bed nearby, watching, learning how Jaskier liked to be touched. While he'd tell them any touch was wonderful, Geralt knew the sensitive spots. He knew to slide a hand up Jaskier's chest, thumb brushing over his adam's apple before cupping the back of his neck and pulling them closer; he knew Jaskier liked the inside of his thighs brushed with kisses before getting eaten out; Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier's body liked, and he was eager to spend all winter teaching his brothers.

Lambert's rut hit the next morning. He was the youngest, without the steadying presence of an Omega, they happened about every three years or so. Eskel and Geralt might go seven or so years between ruts but with Jaskier touching all of them as much as possible, they fully expected to spend the winter dealing with all their biological needs.

After twelve hours wrapped in Jaskier, biting and clawing—Jaskier giving as good as he got—Lambert passed out in Geralt's bed, Jaskier carding a hand through his hair. “If this is ever too much...” Geralt said. Eskel went to the kitchen to get food for when Lambert woke, leaving Geralt mostly alone with Jaskier for the first time in a few days. “You have to tell me. I didn't bring you here to be a brood mare.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed in thought and continued petting Lambert's hair. “If I didn't want all of you, I wouldn't have come. I'm not like most Omegas, Geralt, I don't want a family. But the instinct is still there.” He dropped his nose to Lambert's neck and breathed in deep. Even in sleep, Lambert shifted, wrapping tighter around him. “You offer me three Alphas to take care of, and think it's too much for me? No, never.” He relaxed back into the pillows, closing his eyes for a well earned sleep. “Besides, my heat will suck the life out of you all, might as well let you do the same to me.”

A week later, Eskel's rut hit. Geralt was on guard for an early heat from Jaskier—too many Alphas, too many new pheromones driving his body off its natural cycle—but they were still on track for a week or so before the solstice. Now, there was nothing to do except enjoy winter.

Jaskier's calming presence soothed them all, even Vesemir liked to stand close and sniff him for a moment, always asking permission first. “You don't have to do that,” Jaskier said, hands brushing Vesemir's shoulders one last time as he pulled back.

Vesemir frowned a little and rubbed the faded bond scar at his neck. “Yes. I do.”

“Who was he?” Jaskier asked.

Vesemir's frown deepened and he shook his head, stepping back. “A Witcher lost to time.” He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and went off to make dinner, leaving Jaskier standing on his own.

He wasn't alone for long, Geralt and Eskel rushing in from the courtyard as soon as they smelled his sadness on the air. Lambert ran down a flight of stairs and collided with them all at full force, pushing his nose under Jaskier's ear. Surrounded by _his_ Witchers, Jaskier's sadness didn't last long. He followed them out to the courtyard to watch Eskel and Geralt spar, the sight making him very hot and bothered indeed.

~

A week before the solstice, Jaskier felt the first cramp. He dismissed it as dehydration. He spent half the morning helping Geralt store the training equipment so it didn't get carried off in a nearby storm. Jaskier didn't know how the wind was supposed to be strong enough to carry off the iron sword rack, or the training dummies filled with rocks for ballast, but he helped none the less.

After drinking a few tankards of water, Jaskier found himself in the pantry, arms filled with dried fruit and easily consumable food, two water skins tucked into his belt. He got half way up the stairs to Geralt's room before he realized what he was doing. Fucking _preparing_ for his heat. He had half a mind to take everything back down to the pantry but his feet started climbing the stairs again.

Up in the bedroom, Jaskier put his provisions on an empty shelf and darted back out of the room. He turned down the hall, towards Eskel's room. Heat flared up his spine and he blacked out. His eyes opened and he was back in Geralt's room, Eskel and Lambert's smells swirling around him as well. The bed was piled high with more furs and a few pieces of clothing Jaskier didn't recognize... The scent told the whole story: a fur from Lambert's room, two tunics stolen from Eskel's laundry. Jaskier was nesting.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier hadn't nested in years, not since his first heat. He was a bit of a late bloomer, and went until the age of sixteen without feeling the all consuming fire driving him to fuck and breed. He ran around the house for days, collecting blankets, some old curtains, anything soft. When his parents finally realized what was happening (about two days after Jaskier did) they sent for the miller's boy. He was the only Alpha Jaskier's age in town, so he'd have to do. It was fumbling and awkward, and Jaskier probably scared the poor boy to death when he tried to bite him, not to bond, just to have something in his mouth to quell the urges flooding his entire body.

The day his heat ended, his parents dragged him to the local healer to make sure they didn't end up with a bastard grandchild. It was their idea in the first place to give Jaskier a partner, a few toys would've done fine. Nothing compared to a live body, but he would have managed. He ran away a month later, went to the big city where potions were easier to come by and he never had an Alpha forced on him again.

First heats were rough, the body trying to figure out whether it was ready for a baby, while also trying to make ready for a baby. Jaskier managed to suppress his nesting instincts most of the time through his sheer disinterest in a biological family, but maybe three Alphas around convinced his stupid procreation instincts that he was trying to get pregnant.

While Jaskier's normal heats were intense, he figured three Witchers were up for the challenge, but if he was fucking _nesting_... well, the monsters of the Continent hadn't broken any of them yet, surly Jaskier's heat wouldn't damage them beyond repair.

With all three out helping Vesemir in the mines, Jaskier stripped his clothes and climbed in bed, pulling the smells of his three Alphas tight around him. The boiling under his skin lowered to a simmer. He had some time before the full thing hit. He only hoped they got back before he became really desperate.

~

Vesemir was the first to feel it, the simmer in the air only an Alpha could recognize. He had more experience with Omegas, been through more heats, but even he wasn't prepared for the surprising force of the bard's heat. He ran a hand over the old bond bite to calm himself. “Eskel,” he snapped, voice sharp. All three slammed to a stop and turned to see what made Vesemir so agitated. “Go to the pantry, I put aside every spare water skin we have, take them to Geralt's room. There should be a basket for carrying. Lambert, I baked bread all day yesterday, six loaves. Go with Eskel, take them upstairs.” His eyes finally slid to Geralt. “His heat's started.”

A flurry of movement took the three younger Witchers as they scrambled to their respective tasks, Lambert and Eskel running full pelt down the hall and Geralt taking the stars three at a time. “I'm moving to the room in the north tower! Let me know when he's finished!” Lucky for him, Vesemir started storing a few books and belongings in one of the habitable rooms on the other side of the keep. It wasn't as nice as his own bedroom, but Vesemir knew there was a risk Jaskier's smell would attract him too... best stay as far away as possible.

In the close confines of the staircase, Jaskier's scent hit Geralt full in the face, his cock filling in a matter of seconds. How had they missed it? The scent was so powerful, it permeated the stone walls. His breeches already unbuttoned, cock hanging out, Geralt opened the door to his bed chamber and almost staggered at the intensity of Jaskier's smell, like a cloud of intoxicating fog filling the room.

The bed was piled high with furs, blankets and what looked like some of Eskel's clothing. In the middle of the pile, a head of mussed brown hair shifted, two heavy lidded blue eyes peering out. “Geralt,” Jaskier panted. “Please...”

Geralt's boots and the rest of his clothing hit the floor, and he was there, on top of Jaskier, his touch soothing the fire under his skin. “You didn't nest last heat,” he mumbled between kisses down Jaskier's neck. His smell was impossibly thicker this close to his skin, warm sunshine and salt, like sunrise over the ocean on a humid day.

Jaskier arched into Geralt, shaking hands trying to pull them impossibly closer. Whenever Geralt touched, the burning desire under his skin cooled, leaving only the intense desire to have his Alpha filling him until he couldn't take it anymore. “It's worse,” Jaskier managed. “Than last time... fuck, Geralt, I need you to touch me.”

Geralt licked up Jaskier's neck, his warm scent curling through the air, taking hold of all Geralt's senses. They had moments before it was too late. “We were in the mines, I need—I need to clean up before I touch you.” Sweat in his hair, dirt on his fingers, Geralt already left a few smudges on Jaskier's pale skin. But Jaskier didn't fucking care, he couldn't care about anything except why Geralt's cock wasn't inside him already.

“In me, now!” Jaskier's fingers against his skin turned into claws as he tried to push Geralt between his spread legs. Hole open and dripping, the head of Geralt's cock barely brushed it and he was gone. Thrusting in, Geralt grunted and Jaskier shouted, loud enough for Vesemir to hear on the other side of the keep.

The door opened and Eskel and Lambert fell through it, their bodies shaking this close to an Omega. They barely managed to set Jaskier's supplies down safely before stripping their clothes. “Wash up!” Geralt half groaned with his face buried in Jaskier's neck.

Quick but thorough, Lambert and Eskel rinsed off the dirt and grime from the mines in the washbasin. Jaskier didn't care how they looked as long as they smelled good, but Geralt was right, they couldn't spend a week covered in dirt, not when chances to clean up were rare.

As clean as possible given limited supplies, they piled into the bed, surrounding Jaskier. Hands that clawed at Geralt reached out for them, Lambert's lips finding Jaskier's as Eskel stroked a hand up Geralt's back. “ _Mine_ ,” Jaskier growled, biting hard enough to draw blood from Lambert's bottom lip. “All mine.”

Geralt spared a thought to marvel at how easily they all fell into step with an Omega—decades since they last attended to a brother in heat, and Lambert and Eskel still knew what to do. They kissed Jaskier, touched him where they could reach, trying to ease the first burning symptoms of heat while Geralt did what was needed: fuck Jaskier senseless and knot him as long as necessary. During Jaskier's last heat, Geralt had to do everything at once. He was more than up to the challenge, but it was a weight off his mind this time and he was able to focus his full attention on filling Jaskier with his cock and his come, exactly what the Omega wanted.

Geralt's knot started to fill much sooner than he was used to. It brushed against Jaskier's rim and his attention snapped back to Geralt. “I want it now,” he growled. Helpless to resist, Geralt thrust harder, his knot popping inside. The sound Jaskier made was ragged and dripping with satisfaction, it sounded like pain, but definitely was not. His muscles contracted as he came, pulling Geralt over with him and clamping down on his knot.

The fevered frenzy didn't stop, more slowed. Locked together now, Geralt's muscles went slack and he crumpled down on top of Jaskier, letting his body take over the rest of the task. Eskel's hand on his back brought him out of the fog a little. “How long does he usually take?”

“Twenty minutes?” Geralt couldn't remember, his brain barely worked at the moment.

A little bit of lucidity came back and Jaskier's clawing hands went soft. Tears of confusion welled in his eyes as he looked around. “What... what happened?”

“It's alright, we've got you.” Eskel kissed him and tasted Lambert's blood on his lips.

A little dazed, Jaskier looked around to all of them, seeing the signs of his nails or his teeth taking chunks out of his Alphas. A tear rolled down his cheek even as he clenched around Geralt again, drawing a moan from them both. “Lambert, Eskel... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

A broad thumb wiped the tears from his face and Lambert smiled down at him, his bloody lip already half healed. “It's alright, Omega, we're tough enough to take it.”

He relaxed back into the nest and stroked Geralt's hair. “I'm not usually this bad. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” Eskel kissed his ear, inhaling deeply, letting Jaskier's warm smell calm them before the next round started.

When the fog started rolling in again, Jaskier stopped talking. He rubbed against them all, trying to spread his scent and claim them all, like there was another Omega nearby who had designs on them as well. Geralt's knot finally went down and he rolled out of bed, hitting the floor a little hard. Being away from Jaskier was agony, but he had to clean up. Back on the bed, they rolled Jaskier onto his side and Lambert slid into him from behind, already taking over.

Though Geralt hated washing Jaskier's scent off his skin, he knew it would be back shortly. Seeking out the last few patches of grime and dirt, he chucked the cloth into the washbasin and returned to the bed. Before he could find a spot to settle in, ready to tend to Jaskier however he needed, blue eyes flashed up to him with a feral gleam.

Surprisingly strong arms grabbed for him, wrapping around Geralt's hips and pulling him in. Before he knew it, Jaskier's lips were wrapped around him, taking as much of his large Alpha cock as possible. With Lambert behind doing his best to fill Jaskier's greedy ass, Eskel perched in front of him, stroking Jaskier's cock and balls, and now Geralt in his mouth, a cooling calm settled over Jaskier. He stopped scratching, stopped grabbing, and closed his eyes, drifting off on waves of bliss.

Geralt and Eskel exchanged a look. “Has he been this calm before?” Eskel asked.

“No, never.” Was it really that simple? Geralt thought Jaskier scratched and bit because the fire inside of him was too much, biology was a bitch like that. But with his mouth and ass full, they now had a docile Omega spread between them. Maybe... Jaskier simply needed more than one Alpha to be satisfied. He hadn't heard of an Omega like that before, but leave it to Jaskier to be all sorts of different.

A soft moan around Geralt's cock brought his attention back to the room. Jaskier stiffened, coming in Eskel's hand. Behind him, Lambert kept going, his knot still rising. When it was thick enough, he thrust forward, pushing inside. Jaskier moaned again and clamped down, pure bliss written across his face.

Reason and sense returned after a moment and Jaskier started properly sucking off Geralt, swallowing down as much come as he could before it spilled down his chin. Eskel was there to lick it away as Geralt landed heavily on the bed. “I have an idea,” Eskel whispered. “How do you feel about two knots inside you?”

A shudder ran through Jaskier, all three of them felt it. “Yes. Yes.”

“Not yet,” Geralt said. “You need water.”

While they waited out the rest of Lambert's knot, Geralt held a water skin to Jaskier's lips and handed another to Eskel for Lambert. Jaskier sucked down the water. Only two rounds in and it was already a lot. The first twelve hours were the most frantic, tomorrow would be easier, but for now Jaskier was happy to be taken care of. He already felt the fog of insanity rolling back in and Lambert slipped out, kissing his shoulder before rolling away.

“I want two of you,” Jaskier said before he lost his mind again. “I want two.”

“Yes, Omega,” Geralt whispered and kissed Jaskier's sweaty forehead.

It took some planning and arranging, because they'd never tried _that_ before, not during the worst heat a Witcher might have. Jaskier seemed to calm down if they were all touching him, giving them time to arrange him correctly. Eskel settled down on the bed, Jaskier on his lap, Lambert behind, Geralt standing next to the bed holding the bard steady. His sanity already gone, Jaskier grunted and pulled at them all, trying to get them to touch him more. As soon as Eskel's cock slid inside, he stopped grabbing, eyes rolling back into his head.

Lambert held him tight to his chest, his cock dragging up Jaskier's crack. “Uh, fuck,” he sighed. “He's so wet...” His hole so soft and inviting, not to mention slicker than any body Lambert had ever felt, it was so difficult not to thrust inside.

Geralt held him in place with a sharp glare. “Slow,” he said.

Lambert nodded and the head of his cock notched into Jaskier's hole. As slow as he could manage, he thrust in. Jaskier jerked in his arms, moaning at every glorious inch. It was a tight fit to be sure, but when Lambert felt Eskel's cock sliding under his, that familiar pulse twitching against him, he mouthed at Jaskier's shoulder to hold himself together. He gasped when his hips hit the swell of Jaskier's ass. “That's it. That's all of it.”

Oh, how Geralt longed to have his cock in Jaskier's open and wanting mouth, but they couldn't take him out of the nest, an Omega in heat needed a soft surface to feel safe. He satisfied the pulsing need in his cock by sliding two fingers into Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier moaned, sucking on the fingers with everything he had, his eye lids heavy, completely checked out for the moment.

It was Geralt's job to hold Jaskier up as Lambert and Eskel thrust inside of him. Gripping him around the shoulders, he kissed already swollen lips, swallowing his little whimpers and moans. This was the calmest he'd seen Jaskier during a heat, granted, he had a small sample size, but whatever biological insanity pushed Jaskier to grab for his partner seemed to quiet when they were all touching him.

Jaskier jerked a little, coming completely untouched. But they kept going, Eskel holding to his hips as he thrust inside, Lambert licking across his shoulders, they'd go as long as he needed. Jaskier came again before their knots started to fill. Now that they were used to Jaskier's heat smell, their own urgency faded, leaving all three Witchers mostly lucid, or at least enough to give Jaskier whatever he needed from them.

When Lambert's knot brushed his hole, Jaskier shoved back, trying to get it inside. “Give it to him,” Geralt mumbled between kisses. He swept his thumb over Jaskier's lips and licked up the side of his neck. “He wants it.”

Lambert pushed in first, Eskel not long behind. With two knots and two thick cocks inside him, Jaskier's calm broke for a moment. He threw his head back and shouted, shaking all over as he came again, bringing them over with him. He could barely grip around two knots and more come than usual spilled out, soaking them all and drenching them with Jaskier's smell. With any luck, they'd spend the rest of winter smelling like him, something none of them minded.

Jaskier started coming back to himself again. He blinked and took in the new position, then gasped at the pressure inside of him. “Is that... both?”

“Yes.” Geralt kissed him again, licking the sweat off his face. “Is that alright?”

“Uh, it's _perfect_.” Exhausted as he was, Jaskier leaned against Geralt until Lambert's knot went down enough. He slipped out and they all fell into the bed.

Sunset had come and gone, and the light of dawn filtered in through the window. Jaskier grabbed for them all, rubbing against whoever was nearest, but he hadn't lost his mind yet. “The worst of it's over,” he panted. “I'm only checked out for the first few rounds...” His eyes fell closed even as they all scented his slick on the air.

Geralt fetched water and a loaf of bread. They were all ravenous, but couldn't risk eating too heavily, not when Jaskier's body might take over at any moment. Inevitably, his heat flared and he grabbed for Geralt again, Eskel close by while Lambert dozed at the foot of the bed. Jaskier was more together now, while his hands still grabbed and held tight, he didn't bite or scratch as much, whispering words of love as they slowly rocked into him.

The next few days passed in a blur of short naps between knots (sometimes on Eskel's knot) and a cock in Jaskier's mouth and ass whenever he needed it. Between the three of them, they were able to satisfy him every hour of every day, two in the bed while the third left to replenish their supplies. Vesemir made more bread and left it in the dining hall for them to find.

The final morning, Jaskier woke from a dead sleep and clawed at Geralt. The last flare of heat was always the hottest—body desperate for one last round before it was satisfied. Geralt thrust in, teeth at Jaskier's throat as Lambert nudged Eskel awake and they moved closer, kissing Jaskier's sweaty skin.

As soon as Jaskier finished with Geralt's knot, he passed flat out, exhausted after almost five days. They took turns ducking out to clean up, one of them always with Jaskier for when he woke. When blue eyes finally opened, Eskel and Lambert were down in the hot spring for a proper bath, leaving Geralt stroking Jaskier's hair while he slept.

“I know why,” Jaskier whispered.

“Why what?” They were in desperate need of a bath, and if Jaskier wanted, Geralt would carry him down to the hot spring and bathe him. The last few dregs of his heat smell still swirled in the room, making Geralt soft and pliant, ready to give their Omega whatever he needed.

“I know why my heats are so bad.” He stroked a hand down Geralt's cheek and smiled. “It was Destiny... Destiny telling me a normal Alpha would never satisfy. Only a pack of wolves would do...”

Jaskier closed his eyes and fell asleep again. Geralt pulled him from the bed and carried him downstairs, into the hot spring. Lambert and Eskel lounged in the pool, watching with tired eyes as Geralt cleaned and cuddled the half sleeping Omega... _their_ Omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably a result of me living in the desert for too long, but heat has a smell, strong sunshine has this really hot smell that's hard to describe. Just like snow has a smell, or rain. I didn't address Betas much in this but my idea is that, since School of the Wolf is a pack, they all kind of smell similar. All Wolf Alphas smell like stone, all Wolf Betas smell woodsy, and all Wolf Omegas smell like heat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five days later there was a knock at the door. Vesemir opened it to find Lambert standing there, looking exhausted and very much worse for the wear. “It's over,” he said, leaning against the doorway, eyes dropping closed for a little too long. Red scratches decorated the side of his face, more continuing over his shoulder and disappearing down his back. The entire left side of Lambert's neck was bright purple, fresh bruises, less than a day old. Jaskier was still going that strong towards the end of his heat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely DarkInuFan's fault from a stray comment about Vesemir's reaction once they all emerged from Jaskier's heat... So now we're up to 5k of world bruilding, 7k of porn. This chapter is mostly Vesemir's POV, so no sexy times, yet more world building, because I'm a sucker for that.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, let me know if you find a typo and I'll see to it. Enjoy :)

Vesemir had barely settled into his room, book in hand, when the first cry rang out. Another came soon after, before an almost unbroken stream of moans and breathy grunts filled the air. From the other side of the keep. He gave a quick thought to venturing towards the library to find a spell book with a decent muffling charm, then abandoned the idea. The library was more or less directly under Geralt's room. _Too close, can't risk it._

So Vesemir resigned himself to a few days listening to Jaskier crying out in pleasure. He'd been through worse, a castle full of worse... “Geralt, f-fuck me!” echoed dimly through the halls.

“Hmm.” Vesemir shook his head and turned the page. “Bard's got a set of lungs on him.”

Five days later there was a knock at the door. Vesemir opened it to find Lambert standing there, looking exhausted and very much worse for the wear. “It's over,” he said, leaning against the doorway, eyes dropping closed for a little too long.

Red scratches decorated the side of his face, more continuing over his shoulder and disappearing down his back. The entire left side of Lambert's neck was bright purple, fresh bruises, less than a day old. Jaskier was still going that strong towards the end of his heat? Vesemir lifted a hand and turned Lambert to examine him, his youngest pup moved without a word of protest—another sign of his exhaustion. He tugged at Lambert's collar to see how far the scratches went and lost track of them at the base of his shoulder blades. There were probably more, but Vesemir wasn't about to strip Lambert to see the damage.

He stepped back. “What did he say when he saw what he did?”

Lambert shrugged. “He's still passed out. After his last heat, Geralt said he cried when he saw all the scratches. Doesn't matter, we're strong enough for him.”

“Mmm.” Vesemir wasn't worried about his sons, Lambert was correct: they could handle a wild heat. He was _concerned_ for Jaskier. All that fight in a human Omega might mean something, possibly something bad.

“I'm heading down to the hot spring. Geralt's airing out that side of the keep and Eskel has Jaskier. Dinner tonight?”

“Of course, just the three of you?” Vesemir saw it now before it happened, his last three wolves walking around like zombies, shuffling into the dining hall and inhaling their food before bringing a heaping plate to their new Omega. He probably wouldn't see all of them for another two days or so, heat hangover was a hell of a thing. At least, it was after a Witcher's heat...

He dismissed Lambert with a wave and returned to pack up his temporary quarters. A few hours later, he took an experimental walk towards the other side of the keep. Only a trace of Jaskier's heat scent remained, not enough to push Vesemir's long dead instincts into action. He wanted to grab a quick sleep in his own bed, but he had to start preparing food for his exhausted pups and their exhausting new Omega.

Two nights later, Jaskier managed to come down to dinner. He had a few marks as well, love bites mostly, and Vesemir had to hide his smile at that. Of course his boys gave as good as they got. Vesemir beckoned him and Jaskier fell into his arms, letting the Alpha scent him again. Traces of Geralt, Eskel and Lambert clung to him, winding together with his sunshine scent, smelling like sunrise over the snowy mountain. No mating bites but Jaskier was irrevocably theirs, he smelled that now. When they ventured out into the world again, no fool Alpha would dare come near the bard now, not smelling as claimed as he did.

Vesemir had to admit, he might've taken advantage of Jaskier's exhaustion to take a longer than usual sniff. He wasn't sure what he was looking for...

“Hey,” Geralt grumbled from the table. “Get your own Omega.”

Vesemir released Jaskier and watched him fall into Geralt's arms, Lambert and Eskel pushing up close. Three days out of heat now and they all still had scratches. Healing, but they were there. Three thin red scabs above Geralt's eye, teeth marks fading on Lambert's neck, and a ring of yellowing bruises over Eskel's adam's apple. Vesemir had seen these sorts of injures before... after a Witcher Omega went into heat.

He glanced over to Jaskier, exhausted, unassuming Jaskier, not as bright and playful as usual, but smiling at them all, petting and kissing, taking care of his three Alphas. Vesemir had also seen that before... from a Witcher. Before Geralt showed up with the bard, Vesemir didn't believe a human Omega could handle more than one Alpha at a time. He didn't believe it until he spent a week listening to it.

After another week, they were all more or less back to form. Jaskier joked, danced and played again, the sparkle in his eyes back after a well earned rest. Whenever Vesemir came near, he let the old Alpha scent him, and Vesemir kept looking for something, an explanation maybe...

One night, nothing special about it, Jaskier was perched on a table top, playing his lute while Lambert thrashed Eskel at Gwent. Vesemir stayed up late to watch. While he wasn't a gambling man himself, he loved watching his youngest put his brothers in their place, there was a satisfaction in that, good for the pack to get the reminder every once in a while.

Lambert won, as usual, and Eskel threw down his cards, shoving the table hard enough to send it into Lambert's gut. Usually calm and collected, Eskel had his moments of temper. Magic didn't flow that strongly unless there was a deep river under it, and sometimes deep rivers exploded into geysers. Lambert doubled over and with a flash of blue silk, Jaskier was across the room, jumping over the table, his hands smoothing over Lambert, trying to soothe whatever pain he was in. Eskel tried to come up behind them, his mouth open in an apology, only to be met by a feral growl from Jaskier and a curled lip.

Geralt had seen Jaskier snarl at unfamiliar Alphas before, it was much worse than this, but Eskel had never been on his bad side before. He shrank back and Geralt held him close while Jaskier pulled Lambert from the dining hall. Geralt listened carefully and the door to his room (which might as well be _their_ room at this point) slammed. So, Jaskier wasn't angry enough to take Lambert away for the night.

Eskel shook in his arms and Geralt rested his head in the crook of his neck. “It'll be fine. He's never seen us fight for real. It startled him.” Jaskier had watched morning training a few times now, and while he was always a good sport about them 'keeping their Witcher skills sharp,' Geralt did not miss the way he checked them over from head to toe after, searching out any small cut or bruise to kiss and purr over. Given that he was responsible for more cuts and bruises than they were, it was a little odd, but if Jaskier wasn't an odd bird to begin with he never would have followed Geralt in the first place, so it all balanced out.

It took a few more minutes to settle Eskel out of his panic— “What if he doesn't want me anymore?” “Don't be an idiot, he won't cut you off for one little scrape.” —and Geralt definitely noticed Vesemir lingering at the table with them long after the Old Wolf usually went to bed.

“What's on your mind?” he asked.

Vesemir rolled the thought over and over in his head, there was no other solution he could find. “You sure he's entirely human?” he asked.

Geralt and Eskel peered up at him. “What else do you think he is?” Eskel asked. “An incubus?”

“I've seen every inch of him, no hidden horns. He's a human, I'd bet my knot,” Geralt said.

Vesemir tried not to roll his eyes. They were playing with him, neither truly thought Jaskier was an incubus. For one, Eskel would know straight away, and for another, succubi and incubi were always Betas, ready to please whatever gender fell into their laps. “Well he fucking acts like one of us. Look at yourselves. How many days out of heat?” He didn't want to bring it up like this but there was no casual way to mention that their Omega might be more than met the eye. Maybe a boy who escaped one of the other schools before the final trials? “You have marks like the ones Frank used to fucking leave on you.”

Sadness spread through their strong smells, dimming them a little. Eskel leaned closer into Geralt and they withdrew from Vesemir. He sighed, hating himself for mentioning one of their long gone Omega brothers. “You know what I mean. Your brothers' heats took it out of you the same way. What do you know about Jaskier's past? Is it possible he was trained anywhere?” There had to be an explanation, bards didn't just growl at Witchers like unruly pups, or tear chunks out during a heat.

“Noble birth, he doesn't like to talk about it. All nobles have some sort of training as children. He's handy with a dagger, not much else,” Geralt said.

“How handy?” Geralt bit his tongue and Vesemir waved away the question, rising to his feet. “Doesn't matter, I will see for myself. Bring him to training tomorrow.”

“What? No fucking way.” Letting go of Eskel for a moment, Geralt got up and blocked Vesemir from leaving. “A few scratches and bites are one thing, you can't put him up against one of us, that's insane!”

“Yes, it is, which is why I'll put him against a training dummy,” Vesemir snapped. Their Omega or not, Vesemir was still head Alpha of this little pack, and they would mind his orders.

“He's already too quick to threaten gelding shit head Alphas, I won't let you teach him how to properly do it!”

Vesemir paused, pressing his lips into a tight line. “How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times has he threatened to geld an Alpha?” The thing was, human Omegas didn't do that. They reacted to unwanted advances sure enough, but their protective natures never pushed them to do actual lasting harm. Vesemir had seen a human Omega break an Alpha's leg in their fury, but never anything more sever, never threatening to end their family line...

Geralt sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. He already lost. Jaskier would be in training with them tomorrow no matter what, Vesemir would drag them all from bed to make sure it happened. “Five times.” That Geralt had seen with his own eyes.

“Geralt,” Eskel's soft voice said. “Humans don't usually act like that... not an Omega, at least.”

“Ugh, not you too...”

“Bring him tomorrow,” Vesemir said. It was the final word on the matter. He turned and left the dining hall, heading to bed. He kept his ears pricked for a while, waiting to hear the door to Geralt's room, Eskel's stammered apology and the bard's inevitable forgiveness. If Jaskier was more than human, at least he still had soft human emotions and was easy to forgive his Alphas their transgressions.

The next morning, Jaskier came to training with them, a dagger tucked into his belt. Vesemir set the others working—two on one, Eskel and Lambert against Geralt—and invited Jaskier over to the training dummies.

“I'm not that good,” he said before they even started. “I know where to stick the pointy end, that's all. Traveling by myself, I had to pick up some skills before I had a Witcher to protect me.”

Vesemir placed a heavy hand on Jaskier's shoulder to calm him. It wasn't his usual place—calming the Omega—but it worked and Jaskier stopped fidgeting nervously. His eyes still darted to the other side of the courtyard, watching his Alphas, making sure they were safe. “I'd like to give you a few more skills. I hope you'll never need them, but it's good to be prepared. Show me how you'd fend off an attacker.” Vesemir stepped back and watched Jaskier defend against the training dummy.

Geralt was right, Jaskier was handy with a dagger, but it didn't look like formal training—no royal sword master—just a boy on his own figuring out the best places to stick his blade. He circled around Jaskier, taking mental notes on his form. He could stand a little straighter, balance his weight better, be a little lighter on his feet... mostly footwork focus then. Vesemir ordered him to stop and they started working. After an hour, Jaskier was already moving better, faster, more controlled.

He stopped for a water break, leaning against the dummy, his eyes on Geralt, Eskel and Lambert. “I am human, you know,” he said quietly. “Geralt told me, you think I'm something else. I'm not as special as all that. Just a normal human.”

“Mmm,” Vesemir grunted. “Your parentage? Nothing fishy there?” Part elf, part something might explain his unusual fury.

Jaskier smirked. “My family's as dull as lead, a little on the cruel side. I left when I was sixteen.”

“Any training?” Vesemir heard the sadness in his voice, but it wasn't his place to comfort Jaskier, not when the others would gladly do so the second they broke for lunch.

“Swords until I was fifteen. Picked up a dagger when I was twelve, taught myself a little.” Jaskier shrugged. “I'm not special, Vesemir, not like they are.”

They both turned to watch the others spar. Without further instructions from Vesemir, they all switched sides, now it was Lambert and Geralt against Eskel as he pushed them back with weak Aards, all three of them laughing and playing far too much. “You are special, little lark, they see it in you and so do I. How old are you?”

Jaskier chuckled, resigning himself to Vesemir's questions. “Almost twenty.”

“Place of birth?”

He paused a moment before whispering, “Kerack.”

“Thank you.” He broke up training a few minutes later and watched Jaskier throw himself into a pile of Witcher. They all headed towards the dining hall for lunch as Vesemir turned towards the tower and Master Rennes' old study.

Up in the dusty office, Vesemir kept some of the more redundant library books—travel ledgers mostly, reports no one cared about or even wrote anymore, just the few older stalwarts keeping up with their paper work. He flipped through three different ledgers before the correct name jumped out at him: Master Yanin. Yavin liked killing drowners, like the gulping noises they made, so he hunted along the coast at least one season a year before returning to Kaer Morhen to train the new recruits. Yavin was one of the few walking The Path when the fanatics struck, giving the Beta a few decades more wandering the world before too many drowners caught him off guard and took their revenge.

Now what was Yavin doing twenty some odd years ago...

_Viscount pulled from the sea. Pack of drowners nearby. Offered me the Law of Surprise. Took it out of habit._

He flipped the page and found an entry from the next month, the last entry in the ledger.

_Visited the Viscount's estate expecting a portion of his crop. Found the Viscountess with child. I will return after winter. Heading towards Kaer Morhen tomorrow._

Vesemir leaned back in the chair, staring at Yavin's neat hand. He remembered that year. Yavin came home and grumbled about the empty halls all winter, casting mean glances towards Eskel, Geralt and Lambert after they helped Eskel through a rut. “Not an Alpha's place,” he growled at them, the miserable old Beta. He set off at the beginning of spring and never came back, leaving his ledger behind and his royal Child Surprise unclaimed...

So that was it. Almost two centuries of instinct made Yavin claim the Law of Surprise when they had no means of creating a new Witcher. And Jaskier—it had to be Jaskier, the timing was too coincidental, the location too right—would have been with them from childhood, trained and loved by the pack just as he was now. A Child of Surprise, destined to be a Witcher, but lost in the chaos of the world.

Vesemir closed the ledger and tucked it under his arm. He went down to the dining hall to find Jaskier sitting in Geralt's lap, feeding food from his own plate into Lambert's mouth, his free hand carding through Eskel's hair. They were so happy, so full of life that Vesemir hadn't seen in his sons for so long.

Jaskier's eyes sparkled, the heated smell of his skin wafting from across the room. He leaned down and trailed his nose down Eskel's cheek, kissing Lambert before pushing his face into Geralt's neck, scenting all three of them. Vesemir couldn't remember the last time he watched an Omega dote on his boys like this, long before the keep was ruined, maybe years... So long without love, without a complete pack, and now they had it again. Who was Vesemir to put a damper on their happiness?

He turned around and put the ledger away in the office, burying it under several other books. It was there if he needed it, if Jaskier wanted answers some day, but for now it was better tucked away. Destiny tried to brand Jaskier a Witcher and she failed, yet he found them another way. And really, that's all that mattered.

When Jaskier left to take The Path at Geralt's side, he took a long moment to scent them all, pressing his body against Lambert and Eskel in turn, whispering soft words of love into their hair. When he turned to Vesemir, he smirked. “May I approach, Alpha?”

Vesemir chuckled and opened his arms. “You may.” Jaskier collided with his chest, warm and solid and smelling of them. At the edge of his collar, Vesemir caught sight of a fresh mating scar, less than a few days old. They'd all been scarce recently, Vesemir put it down to wanting to enjoy their last few nights together. “Only one?” he asked.

Jaskier pulled back and unbuttoned his cloak, then lifted his tunic. Another mating scar just above his hip, unconventional placement but still intimate. “Lambert's is... somewhat lower.” Geralt coughed to cover the awkwardness, Lambert just smirked. “Multiple mates aren't really a human thing. I didn't want to open us up to more scorn than necessary. But I wanted them all, I belong with the pack.”

Vesemir's eyes slid from Geralt, to Eskel, and finally to Lambert. Now that he knew what to look for, he saw their bites, just above the collar line, all from Jaskier. They were his as much as he was theirs. Exactly how it should be.

“Yes,” Vesemir said. “You do belong.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lambert's mating bite is on the inside of Jaskier's thigh. Because he so would.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably a result of me living in the desert for too long, but heat has a smell, strong sunshine has this really hot smell that's hard to describe. Just like snow has a smell, or rain. I didn't address Betas in this (because I forgot) but my idea is that, since School of the Wolf is a pack, they all kind of smell similar. All Wolf Alphas smell like stone, all Wolf Betas smell woodsy, and all Wolf Omegas smell like heat.


End file.
